Bucolic

Having lived in the city for the better part of two years, I am quite pleasantly surprised by the differences one encounters in the country.

The change that strikes me the most is the way time seems to slow down. Some of the longest days in my life have been spent here. It's a lazy kind of slow, one where there's not much to do and plenty of time to do it.

Those who have followed my blog know that there's a creek flowing behind my old house that I used to like and visit. As fate would have it, there's another creek behind this one. It's an old cattle ditch that runs in almost a straight line and borders an impressive pasture. At one point, it resembles something straight out of a Frost poem. The creek runs out of sight on both sides and you're staring across at an old tree line. The third farthest tree has fallen down. It's almost impossible to explain, but something feels "right" about the place. Perhaps you have to be there.

Another thing about rural life is the propensity of animal life. Just yesterday, one of my mutts herded about sixty cows like he'd done it his whole life. I wasn't there to see it, but my wife reports that he looked just like the cattle dogs you see on TV. He's a Newfoundland mix, so I suppose he just went on instinct. I've seen a few deer, a snake, and a white, graceful bird that likes to toy with my dogs. Even the earth feels alive, although that's hard to explain too.

Then there are the bugs. Bugs, bugs everywhere. I can't leave my front porch light on for fear that the deck will soon be consumed by thousands of them. Normally, I wouldn't care, but I don't want them to annoy my animals. There are some beautiful moths and butterflies as well. They land on you, slowly move their wings, and then flit away into the afternoon.

It is fitting that the Japanese chose the haiku to express nature- I see them being composed around me all the time.